Sherlock And Son - The Paternal Case
by GeorgiaPhan
Summary: LOOSELY BASED ON THE TV SERIES Sherlock discovers he has a son from his and Molly's previous brief relationship thinking about making this a fully blown novel tell me what you think! xxx
1. Prologue

Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.

I solve cases. I use my brain.

I am a detective.

I live in London, 221b Baker Street to be precise.

I get up at 7:32 every morning, giving me 10 minutes and 45 seconds before I get into my taxi (registration plate RH09 BH2O), which always arrives 15 seconds

late, to arrive at work at 8:03.

Outside the gates, I eat a green apple, preferably Granny Smiths, as it is more beneficial to waking up than any dose of caffeine.

Then I have two gulps of coffee, ignoring the fact above due to the undeniable fact coffee improves my thoughts, and dispose the rest into the third-from-the-

right-in-the-row-of-bins' dustbin; I walk through the doors at exactly 8:05.

Usually this gives me 55 minutes, well 64 if he forgot to shave and returned home to do so, before my colleague Watson graces me with his presence.

But not this time.

At 8:36, when I am simultaneously checking the newspaper for mistakes and inspecting my desk for dust, Molly walks in.

I have worked with Molly for 9 years. Within the first six months we were 'together', or what she referred to as 'dating'.

That was a mistake.

She stopped work shortly after and returned after 18 months.

I could never quite work out why, it still infuriates me.

I hate not knowing.

Anyhow, my thoughts developed.

Molly walked in, disturbing my dust and newspaper inspection.

She was not alone.

She had a boy, judging by the bobble on his cardigan, the sloppy (definitely did it himself) knot in his scarf and the Lego batman in in his hand, he was no older

than 8 and 6 months.

He had deep brown curls and piercing green eyes, not too unlike mine, and was surveying the room, where his eyes finally met mine.

He was inquisitive, his posture perfect, eyebrows slightly raised.

Then I finally realised.

He was my son.


	2. Chapter One

"Molly...?" I say, stern. "Can we talk outside?"

"No point in that. He can.."

"Lipread. Of course he can." I muse.

"You know.." She stuttered "he is so much like you, you would never know." Her stuttering irritates me.

"Of course I know. I can see that. Not hard to miss." I smile.

"Yeah. Of course." She shifts from foot to foot, blatantly awkward. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair messy.

"Get up late?" I say, lowering my eyes back to the newspaper, hoping she would catch the hint - she had interrupted my routine and I was annoyed. Oh, and

the fact she decides to show me I have a son after 8 years.

"Yeah.. how did you..?"

"Mum. Your clothes are messy, your hair is too." He, my son, says calmly. He did not even look up from the toy he was clutching in his slender yet short fingers.

I chuckle and he diverts his attention onto me.

Raising my eyebrows, he understands my question.

"My name is your name." He says this with a little despair riddled within his surprisingly low voice.

"You know why she didn't tell me, don't you." I was testing him, and he knew it. Grinning, he began to tell me of a letter Molly had bestowed upon him two

years ago.

"Obviously forged, I knew." He was untroubled, everything matter of fact, like looking in a mirror. "It smelt of her Petunia perfume, the handwriting all wrong

too. It also didn't have your name on it, so I had to work out who you were from other things. I saw you on TV, I knew that you were... my... dad." He lets it

linger on his tongue "because I walk like you, and the hair, the nose, the eyes et cetera. I realised this about a year ago, keeping it a painful secret until last

week. Mum fainted when I told her." He paused "it was a little scary but I knew she wasn't, well, dead or anything."

I smiled at him, he continues.

"Hey dad. I'm in top class for maths... and well, everything."

"Great!" It was my time to be awkward.

Children are so confusing to me, their reactions and emotions on a different scale to adults. I hoped he was different, mature in his maegre age.

"Sherlock... junior... you didn't answer my question." I wasn't sure how that, as it was so blunt, would affect him, though he just smirks.

"I know. Mummy didn't tell you because she didn't think you had the mental or physical capacity because you are a robot, cold to the world." He quotes.

"A text, right?" I test him again.

"Yep." He grins "she doesn't lock her phone, she doesn't even use a password. I told her it wasn't a good idea because we live in London. You know what I

mean, thieves surrounding everything and everyone."

"Wow." I was stunned, I could predict, give or take childish vocabulary, every single word which came out of his mouth.

"Dad...?" He asks as he walks over to the desk "there's dust on the corner."

"I know."

"They spelt jewellery wrong on page 7."

"I know."

"Your office.. laboratory... room smells like lavender disinfectant."

"I know."

"Your floor is sticky. Someone has spilt Diet Coke on it."

"I know.. well it's just regular Coke actually."

Molly clears her throat, which is both completely childish and extremely high pitched, most likely in order to surprise us. It didn't work, we raised our eyebrows

at each other, like previously said, it was like a mirror."

"I think you should be getting ready for school!" She lies. I could hear she was, Junior's confused reaction and her prompt timing proved she was simply trying

to get away. Though she did have to return after for work, stupid really.

"It's an inset day. No school." I say, he nods in approval. "What do you want to do today, eh junior?" Wincing, I am a little unsure of his reaction to this. That

was my attempt at sounding child friendly, yet it sounded simply patronising to me.

It was to him too. "I have decided to stay here with you." He announces, Molly groans with her head in her hands.

"Sounds reasonable. I 've never had a 'take your child to work day' before."

"You've never had a child." He really does catch on quick.

"Skipped past the nappies and sick, I have one ready made. Lucky that, the one thing I can't stomach is babies." I shudder, he chuckles as I finish.

She clears her throat once more, no doubt in an attempt to feel included and show Sherlock that she was still, well, alive.

"You owe me a hell of a lot of money." She whispers, sharp, under her breath.

"Not in front of the kid, Molls." They both knew I was taunting.

My son sat on the floor, his palm flat on the tiles. "You have underfloor heating."

"I know."

"You need to turn it up, your feet are cold."

"I know."

He gets up and looks out of the window. "The pub across the road looks just like the Queen Vic."

"I kno... what?"

"The Queen Victoria."

"What on earth are you talking about?" I really didn't have a clue.

"From Eastenders."

I sigh, causing Molly to laugh suddenly as she sees my face, a mixture of horror and complete and utter disappointment.


	3. Chapter Two - A Disappearance

"I think it is now time that I teach you about the wonders of this world."

"Sherlock... What would you mean by that?" Molly raises her eyebrows, she turns around after heading to the door, about to leave.

"Oh just the usual splendours. Thieving. Murdering. Fraud. And all the other beauties." I smile sweetly.

"Ok." She looks relieved. "Now, Sherlock.."

"Yes?" My son and I chorus,

"Not you." She sighs at me. "Right. I'm leaving you here for a few moments, I need to pick up some documents that I left at home in the mad rush of you wanting to meet this... man. I'll be back in roughly ten minutes, and I expect you both to be here when I do return. Then, I suppose, we can arrange some little adventure that you two seem hellbent on."

"Bye, Mum." He answers, though does not reach out for an affectionate embrace.

I don't blame him. I wouldn't either.

Molly mumbles "like father, like son" under her breath and leaves, her shoes clicking along the laminate floor. We wait in silence until we hear a vehicle go through the centre car park gate, at approximately 27 miles per hour, and then Junior sits on my work chair.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" I ask him.

"I want to go and investigate... a ... big theft or suspicious murder or even a mass epidemic."

"Are those three on your bucket list?" I joke, though cringe.

"Yes."

This is unmistakably painful, he is so alike me, yet because of it we have nothing to say; we both simply think the same things.

"Can't we just go now?" He sighs, after long moments of excruciating silence.

"If you want to." He knew I wanted to, as much as he did.

"Let's go." He spins on his toes and walks out of the door.

Throwing my coat and scarf on, I slide my phone into my pocket and follow Junior out.

I pull it back out when we are in the taxi and scroll through the files I had saved onto my notes.

"What do you fancy? I've got a disappearance of a six year old from the Lanesborough. An armed bank robbery where only the uniforms were stolen. Finally, the murder of a film star in the local park."

"Disappearance. It fits the checklist."

"Just a guess here - theft not big enough and murder not suspicious enough?"

"You got it." He grins.

I direct the taxi driver to the hotel, hand him a £50 for good measure, and head to the reception.

"Someone called." I remove my scarf and look hard into the woman behind the desks eyes'. She blushes, I could see her open her mouth to pour out dribble like 'I'm your biggest fan' or 'Sherlock Holmes, I wish I could...'. Well. You get the picture. Her gush of fanatic adoration was stopped short by a deep voice from behind me.

"Holmes. Yes, my secretary called on my behalf. My name is Mr Imperitus." Junior and I spin on our heels to greet the short and fat man who spoke. His chins rolled over his blue silk shirt, colouring his face slightly red from the strain. "You need to solve this as quick, and as quietly, as possible. Payment will be large. And what is this _child_ doing here, get him out! At once!"

"Excuse me." I said slowly "that is _my son_."

"Oh. Oh, well. Well, oh."

"For a man so lavished with a voice... you seem to have lost the capacity to speak your mother tongue." I smile sweetly as his face turns from pink to purple. "If it weren't for the fact that there is a six year old life balancing on this case, I would be most inclined to drop it. Don't you think that's the truth, Junior?"

"Yes_, dad_." His smirk mirrors mine.

Imperitus cleared his throat and ushered us to the stairway with his flabby bingo-winged left arm. "This way."

"I am quite aware of the lay out of this building, thank you."

"I did not quite think that _your budget _would reach this high Mr Holmes."

"Oh how amusing." I smile at Junior, speaking deliberately loud so the imbecile could still hear us from half way up the staircase "your name seems to match your whole being. Mr Imperitus." Junior looked confused, so I explain "Ignorant in Latin."

He smirks harder as we walk into the suite that has been taped off from the public.

"Now. What do we have here?" I ask my son as we are greeted with a white fur carpet splattered with blood, which leads to the open window.


End file.
